


Good For The Soul

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Molly Weasley Meddling, No One Should Be Alone On Christmas, Sassy Harry Potter, alcohol use, harry hates christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Harry is alone at Christmas, and he's perfectly happy with that, thank you very much.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Bill Weasley
Comments: 13
Kudos: 248
Collections: Fairest's Secret Santa Drabble Exchange 2019





	Good For The Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArielSakura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielSakura/gifts).



> Written for the brilliant ArielSakura for Fairest of the Rare's Secret Santa Exchange 2019. I was prompted with many wonderful Harry pairings and chose this one on a last minute whim. I hope you enjoy it, darling! It was my pleasure to write. Happy holidays! <3
> 
> A big thank you to mcal for giving this her time and letting me know that it wasn't, actually, trash. I love you, friend. <3

Harry hated the holidays. Loathed them. All holidays — every. last. one.

Which was exactly why he was sat in his office, behind a large oak desk, sans his official uniform and lounging comfortably in his jeans and cotton shirt. He had a decanter of whisky to his right and a thrice emptied tumbler to his left. Rather than the overhead wireless network playing their usual holiday classics, Harry listened to the music of his muggle youth: the very best of Run DMC.

He was perfectly content in his office, spending the holiday alone. The Weasley Family Christmas raged on in his absence from the Burrow, and tomorrow he’d pick up whatever gifts Molly insisted on thrusting upon him. Tonight, though — tonight was for him.

Or, so he thought.

Halfway through his decanter of whisky and a decent buzz clouding his unfestive mind, there was a knock on his door. Three loud thunks that nearly had Harry tipping over in his chair onto the floor. His hand knocked into the large container of whisky and it flew from his desk and spilled all over the floor. He could only curse at the damned thing — he’d deal with the stench of alcohol and the stain in the morning.

“I know you’re in there,” a gruff voice said behind his thick door. “You’re a shit hider.”

“I wasn’t pretending otherwise,” Harry griped back, flicking his wand at the door to deward and open it.

Standing on the other side was a Weasley sweater wearing ginger, dragontooth earring dangling just shy of his shoulder, and a cheeky grin lighting up his face. Bill was long and lean, with tattered jeans and dragonhide boots. The scar on his face only made him look cooler than he already did — its jagged silvery edges splicing a perfect line down his cheek.

“Mum sends her love.” Bill stepped into his office, quietly closing the door behind him. He waved a hand and a perfectly wrapped gift appeared on Harry’s desk. “She’s asked me to give you this. Said you should have it on Christmas Day like the rest of us.”

No sense in opening it. His yearly Weasley sweater would still be there in the morning.

Harry tipped his chin and fingered the half drained tumbler of whisky. “Ta.”

“That’s all I get for leaving my family to slum it in the Ministry with you on Christmas?” Bill laughed and imitated Harry with striking precision. “Ta.”

“Thank you kindly, William, for I appreciate all your effort to completely ignore my desire to be alone on Christmas.” Harry tossed back the last of his swill and stood from his chair, wobbling as he found his footing for the first time in several hours. Bill ran forward and steadied him with a strong hand on his forearm. “Ta.”

“There’s that word again,” Bill chuckled, not quick to lose his grip. “If you’re not going to grace the Burrow with your presence on Christmas, ‘least you can do is send word so that you’re not alone. Mum’s having kittens.”

Harry pressed three fingers to his desk, taking careful steps to the center of the room, but Bill’s hand still guided him forward. “My apologies,” he mumbled, “I had every intention of enjoying my night alone.”

“Merlin.” Bill scurried around him and grabbed him by both shoulders. “You can be such a wanker. You’re an honorary Weasley. There’s no such thing as Christmas alone anymore.”

“But, I don’t want—”

“We don’t do mad Christmases at the Burrow because it’s what we  _ want _ .” That smile on his face, the way his cheek crinkled his eyes under the weight of it, flipped Harry’s stomach. “It’s what we  _ need _ . It’s good for the soul.”

“I don’t want to bring everyone down with my,” Harry gestured to his entire person, so obliterated and rumpled, “ — _ this _ .”

Bill’s thumb tightened on his shoulder. “When Fleur left, do you think mum allowed me to miss Christmas because I was sad?”

Harry poked his tongue into his cheek and pinched his lips. “Probably not; she’s very intrusive.”

He was rewarded with another smooth laugh from his favorite Weasley. “Aye, she is. It comes from a place of love.”

“Yeah, ‘suppose.” Harry hung his head and feeling like a right tosser.

Bill’s knuckle nudged his chin, forcing Harry’s gaze to meet his. “For me, too. It comes from a place of love.”

“It — what?” Harry blinked, cheeks tinted pink from either Bill or the whisky; it was a toss up.

“Loving you from afar,” Bill’s hand traveled to Harry’s neck and his thumb stroked his jaw, “it’s killing me, Harry.”

They stared at one another, and Harry wasn’t sure who closed the gap, but he had a feeling that he’d never again be alone at Christmas.


End file.
